


One Last Favor

by RatMonarch



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bitterness, Canon Gay Character, Gore, Hope, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, M/M, Martyrdom, Past Relationship(s), Regret, Resentment, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 04:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18024707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatMonarch/pseuds/RatMonarch
Summary: Arcade knew his life was essentially over. But, before he went out, he might as well do one last favor for the people of the Mojave.





	One Last Favor

Arcade gently fingered the leather collar wrapped snugly around his neck. He’d been wearing the contraption for a good couple of weeks now and somehow, it still felt like a heavy weight around him. 

He took extra precaution to keep his touches feather-light. After all, too much fiddling would trigger the explosive device inside and his head would end up a splattered, red mess. He knew that wasn’t just a rumor the Legion had concocted to scare the slaves into submission either. He had witnessed its affects firsthand. Or… at least the bloody aftermath.

One moment, he’d been inside Caesar’s tent, listening to the man’s piss-poor attempt at justifying his horrendous actions via philosophy, when suddenly the ground shook and the sound of an explosion went off. 

Immediately, everyone in the Fort was on high alert. Legionaries were crying out, slaves were panicking, Legion mongrels were barking and snarling, and Caesar himself had shot to his feet, ordering Vulpes and the others t to see what was happening as he went to grab a weapon of his own. 

For a moment, amidst all of this chaos and confusion, Arcade actually felt a glimmer of hope light up in his chest. Perhaps the NCR had decided to launch an ambush against the Legion Fort. Of course, that was a complete shot in the dark, as from what he had seen with Six, the NCR didn’t seem to be planning such a koo, but it was the only faction Arcade could realistically see being brave enough to strike the Legion in their stronghold. 

Perhaps, if the NCR managed to win this, they would liberate Arcade and all of the other slaves. He felt his heart race a bit at the thought. 

That was, if Arcade and all of the other slaves didn’t get themselves killed in the crossfire between the two groups. 

As Arcade was debating which area of the camp would be the safest to flee to, he traitorously felt another part of him flutter with hope. For a split second, a part of him wondered if whoever just caused that explosion wasn’t the NCR at all, but instead, Six, strapped with his grenade launcher.

He wouldn’t put it past the bastard to try something so daring and suicidal. 

Maybe it was Six out there. Maybe he was going to pick off the Legion members one by one. Maybe he was going to reveal to Arcade that he’d been putting on an act the whole time, and selling Arcade had all been apart of some convoluted plan to earn the Legion’s trust so he could ultimately betray them in the end. 

Luckily, Arcade’s rational side didn’t allow him to linger on a such a thin strand of hope for long. He almost snorted at the ridiculousness. Brahmin would sprout wings and begin flying before that hope would ever be real. 

In fact, he was in _more_ danger if it was Six then the NCR. 

Not wanting Caesar to reemerge and force him to corner himself by staying in the camp, Arcade quickly hurried out the entrance to see the commotion, keeping his head low just in case.

It was not what he expected. He had expected a fray to be breaking out, but instead, Legionaries and slaves were all crowded around an area, murmuring to one another. Some of the mongrels were running around, barking with interest and sniffing the ground. 

Immediately, Arcade’s hope of the NCR or even Six blasting through to rescue everyone died. He assumed if the NCR or a murderous Six were out there, the Legionaries would be a whole lot more active. Despite the heavy disappointment weighing his chest, he was still curious on what caused the commotion, so he approached the crowd, using his tall height to his advantage to see over the crowd. After craning his neck a bit, he found himself flinching at the gruesome sight.

Blood and gore, sprayed everywhere. It was almost like a can of red paint had exploded… if that can of paint was full of meaty chunks. Blood stained the ground, flecked the nearby tents, and he saw some slaves and Legionaries, who must have been standing close at the time of the explosion, had bits of gore on them. 

As a Follower of the Apocalypse, he’d seen quite a lot of ugly and horrible sights. Horrible deformities caused by radiation, missing limbs, wounds so brutal that the victim’s intestines were showing, and plenty of other things. Needless to say, he had long since developed a strong stomach over the years. Living in the Mojave kind of required that one had one. 

But even Arcade felt his stomach tense up a bit when he saw the mutilated, decapitated body of the slave.

Eventually, the body was removed and the members of the camp had calmed down from the ordeal, which inevitably meant jokes and rumors began to circle. According to the stories, the slave had been a newer recruit and supposedly, people had witnessed him fiddling with his collar before it detonated.

The rumors began centering around whether the detonation was an accident or not. Had the slave simply tried to remove the collar, figuring they could work around the explosive trigger? Had they just been trying to adjust it to make it more comfortable, clinging to the hope that the rumors about the collars exploding was just a fear tactic rumor? Or had he known, or even _hoped,_ that the collar would detonate and had triggered the mechanism on purpose?

Arcade hadn’t known the man, so he wasn’t going to speculate what his intentions were and weren’t. 

However, if his demise was indeed intentional, Arcade certainly didn’t fault him for it. 

In fact, Arcade would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of doing the exact same thing a couple of times since being sold into slavery. And while none of them would admit it aloud, in fear of snitches and informants listening in, he was sure _every_ slave in the Fort had considered it at least once. 

He didn’t know why he didn’t just kill himself. What was the point of continuing to live? All he did by continuing to live was help serve the Legion, the group he hated with all of his heart. If he really thought about it, he would probably be doing the Mojave a service by getting rid of himself and inconveniencing the Legion, even by the smallest of margins. 

Maybe part of the reason he hadn’t brought himself to do it yet was due to simple fear. It was basic Biology and Psychology 101. The human body will naturally try to do whatever it takes to avoid being killed. It had a natural aversion to the idea of death, even in the most despairing of conditions. 

He kept insisting to himself he would do something one night. Sometimes, he considered triggering the collar’s explosive. Other times, he thought about pilfering a rope from one of the Legion members and using it to make a noose that he could hang himself with. Sometimes he thought about just taking the plunge and trying to escape, a feat no slave at the Fort had ever managed to successfully accomplish. At least if he was killed then, he could say he died trying.  
But despite these passing thoughts, he never actually did them. He told himself it was simply because he hadn’t seen the proper opportunity, though that was a lie. Sure, Caesar eyed him more than most of the other slaves, but not constantly. And slaves were practically background objects to most of the other Legionnaires. He could easily get something he needed to help, be it rope, a weapon, anything. But he didn’t. Nor did he ever try to escape, despite seeing openings to try and do so. Why?

Maybe like he mentioned earlier, it all came down to fear. Fear of consequences. After all, if he got caught by the Legionnaires, there was a high chance he would be strung up on a crucifix and that was a fate he truly wanted to avoid if at all possible. If they were merciful enough not to lash him to a cross, they would make his life hell in other ways. He’d seen slaves who had their skin carved and more… yeah, it was not exactly pleasant being caught doing a misdemeanor here in the Legion. 

But he didn’t think it was purely that. If he was afraid of consequences, he probably would’ve never went out in the Mojave with Six all those months ago. After all, the Mojave could be just as cruel, if not crueler than the Legion. Cazadores whose poison made one’s blood feel like it was made out of boiling lava, Fiends who would sell him in a heartbeat if it meant getting a chem, deathclaws who could slice him in half with one swipe of their deadly serrated claws. If he was willing to go out there with just a robot dog and a courier by his side, then he could attempt any of these feats.

No, the real reason he hadn’t done anything was because of a much more cruel concept. That concept being hope. 

Hope was such a cruel and beautiful thing. On one hand, hope is what pushed humanity forward. Without hope, he was sure most of humanity back when the Vaults had first opened and they had to see what was left of the world after the bombs, wouldn’t of survived if they didn’t have a bit of hope in their hearts that they could make something out of the tattered remnants of their world. It was what pushed people on. It was what made his mother think that he could live a normal life, even after all the stuff with the Enclave went down. 

But hope also was cruel in a way. It made people think that things would get better, when in reality, they never would. The incident with the slave showed that. He had actually thought for a few seconds that the NCR or Six would come for him, despite how slim both of those chances were. The NCR had enough internal problems as it was, the chances of them actually wasting the manpower to take down the Fort and free a couple of slaves was slim to none. The chance of Six finally gaining his sense was even slimmer. He had seen it in the courier’s eyes when the man had sold him to slavery… he was not the same person who had optimistically asked him to join along with their journey. Or maybe that person had never existed at all, and it had all been a carefully constructed act in order to trick Arcade into providing him service. 

He clenched his jaw at the thought, feeling like a fool. Why had he trusted a random courier? Was he really that foolish? That desperate for some excitement in his life. He didn’t know, but he did know he was paying the price for that decision. 

And now, that man was out there, probably killing and destroying dozens of more lives. Arcade felt his jaws clench at the thought, disgusted with the fact that he had been fooled by that man. By the fact that he had helped the man. 

By the fact he had once loved that man. He shook the thought away, not wanting to linger on it more. 

But despite how slim all those chances were, he still found himself hoping that one day, something spectacular would happen. He was sure every other slave here hoped for the same. It was all they had left. If they got rescued, then they could live on. Their life would have purpose again. They would be glad that they hadn’t fallen into the trap of despair. 

But how many slaves have died clinging to that hope? Probably a countless amount. 

For now, Arcade still had embers of hope within his chest, but he was sure they would diminish one day. He had always been more cynical than others after all. He doubted he could keep them alive within him forever. 

One day, he would probably kill himself in this godforsaken Fort. 

But as he eventually returned back into Caesar’s tent, watching the man talk strategy with Vulpes and everyone else in the tent, Arcade made a vow to himself, he made a vow. If he could help it, he wasn’t going to go down without at least a little bit of a fight. Consider it the one last favor he would give the Mojave before he died. 

If he was going to go down, someone was going to go down with him.

Part of him considered Caesar. He would be the easiest to strike. He was not only ill, but Arcade was also constantly around the leader. Caesar seemed to have a particular penchant for him that he didn’t hold for the other slaves. It would be so, so, so easy to grab the scalpel that Caesar kept by his bedside and stab it in the man’s throat when they were alone… so easy. 

But that wouldn’t do anything. It might shake the Legion up a bit, that their founding leader was dead… but they had been preparing for his death for a while. If Caesar died, Legate would take over, and in a lot of ways, Arcade somehow managed to consider him worse. And he was afraid, under Legate’s leadership, the Mojave would be in even more trouble than ever. So no… he wouldn’t target Caesar.

He wouldn’t target Vulpes either. Vulpes was evil incarnate, but he was just a pawn in the grand scheme of the Legion’s game. He would be replaced. He was not needed. He wouldn’t hurt anything.

A strong part of him would love to strike down Legate, but he wouldn’t even be confident of killing that man with a grenade… so he would have to hold off.

He considered all the people he could take down with him before he died, and his mind finally came up with one person. The perfect person, in fact.

Six.

This was a very tricky thing to calculate, of course. He didn’t know when Six would ever return to the Fort, but he was sure he would have to at some point. He had already made it clear he sided with the Legion, and Caesar liked to touch bases with his pawns. 

Arcade used to hope that Six would die somewhere out in the wilderness, be it by a deathclaw or even just a molerat who left him a particularly nasty, infected bite. It didn’t matter, so long as the man was dead. 

But now, Arcade kind of hoped he was alive and that he would visit for one last time. Because Arcade was the one who wanted to end that man’s life for good. To stab him in the throat or shoot him in the head or whatever he needed to use against him to see the light die out of the courier’s eyes. 

Then, and only then would he know he had done something for the Mojave. It was perfect really. The Legion _needed_ Six. Arcade could tell in the way Caesar casually brought the man up as a piece in every single one of his plans. And Arcade didn’t blame him for that. Six truly was amazing. Anything that would kill any other person, Six managed to survive. Six always got even the most large of tasks done. There was a reason different factions kept trying to get in contact with the man. He was a trump card. He was a way to succeed. 

Arcade had thought Six had his eye in the sky when he said he wanted to save the Mojave. Now, Arcade was sitting here afraid Six might actually succeed in doing the opposite… destroying it. 

And that is why, the best thing Arcade could do was get rid of him. Rid the world of the most dangerous piece they had ever had to witness. If he could get rid of him, then he’d not only save the Mojave… but he’d probably save several others lives in the process. He would die a martyr, a hero, like all the people in the old holotapes he used to watch and books he would read. 

Perhaps he would die trying that. Six had many attempted murders on him before… and he was used to dealing with those people personally. But none of those people shared their past intimacy. Their supposed bond. He remembered the smug look on Six’s face when he had saw Arcade with his collar on. He already thought he won. He thought Arcade was defeated, defenseless. 

Arcade would show him how wrong he was.

And even if he died, at least he could be said he died trying. At least Six could see his actions had consequences. 

So with that in mind, Arcade would continue to live. He would continue to stay by Caesar’s side. But his eyes would always remain at the entrance of the Fort, _hoping_ Six would wander in, drunk on triumph and victory, unaware of the duty Arcade had given himself. Unaware of what Arcade was willing to do for the Mojave. 

Yes, this would be his one last favor. 

His one final mission. 

Courier Six and the Legion would not win. Not while he was alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This piece didn't really end up the way I wanted it. It was going to be a lot longer and more angsty and have more glimpse in the relationship aspect, but it never really felt right to me. It always ended up sounding wonky and wrong. And usually, I stick with it until I am satisfied, but I have literally been working on this piece for almost two years now, and I just want to finally be rid of it. 
> 
> Also people who sell Arcade into slavery, how can you do it? My poor heart wouldn't be able to take it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed anyway and as always, critique is wanted. 
> 
> Have an amazing day!


End file.
